


scorpion grasses

by langue_de_chat



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Hubert POV, M/M, Mid-Timeskip, Misunderstandings, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Pining, Pre-Relationship, many headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langue_de_chat/pseuds/langue_de_chat
Summary: Also known as forget-me-nots or mouse-ear. Ferdinand returns to Enbarr, somewhat weathered. Hubert struggles to find out why.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 32
Kudos: 169





	scorpion grasses

**Author's Note:**

> an imagining where the development of their relationship doesn’t rely on byleth. It really is just pre-pre relationship to a hopeful pre-relationship. rife with my own headcanon and whatnot, so click away if you're not keen.
> 
> who knows if it is any good? but this has all my love in it. no beta, so apologies for any typos or errors.

His transfer to the Imperial Palace was his lady's suggestion.

With her teacher missing— _presumed dead_ , Hubert considered only in private—he had taken the role of chief tactician for Edelgard’s forces. He studied their professor carefully in the months that they had served as their teacher, and henceforth was the most worthwhile candidate in filling the void. 

As he scurried off to the battlefields he was needed in, the work he would have left waiting for him would tower over him. Hubert had no complaints; he would take his work with him where he could and he would complete the rest in Enbarr, until Edelgard found him asleep at his desk on too many occasions. She insisted that they found someone to at least help him with the mountains of paperwork that would find him. He had turned his nose up at the prospect. Finding someone who was— _almost as,_ Hubert added internally—competent, hardworking and reliable, as well as someone close enough to the pair of them that they could trust. Hubert frowned, reassuring Lady Edelgard that he could handle all his assigned responsibilities, and those two times— _at least four times_ , she then corrected—were simply just oversights on his part, and that this was absolutely unneeded.

After relentless discussion, they had come to a compromise. Whoever they chose, it had to be someone who they mutually knew, and someone that they knew well, not only personally but about their history extensively—neatly narrowing it down to their classmates at Garreg Mach. Secondly, they needn't have to know everything, just the official work that lied on the surface, and anything else that was more delicate, Hubert could take on when he returned. Even what they considered official would be a reasonable proportion of work, and with some time they could take on a fraction of Edelgard's official duties. 

They combed through the possible candidates, picking the best through a process of elimination. The final person left was about to be struck by Hubert, when Edelgard stopped him. Hubert had shot her a brief look, one of bewilderment and disgust. She frowned in response. "He's hardworking and reliable, and trustworthy to us. He stood by our side when we faced Rhea. We would trust him with our lives."

Hubert would be amused, if it was not his lady that had said those words. "Would we?"

"We had in the past," Edelgard said, "You had, at least once." Hubert knit his brows, struggling to recall. "When you had that awful burn," she said, as if to urge him. 

He remembered. The burn on his leg, yes. He had worried if his nerves would be permanently damaged by how it looked, remembering the stench of his own burning flesh and someone else’s blood. He reminisced, begrudgingly, at the memory.

—

It was not only just a burn on his leg. He was bleeding heavily from one shoulder, having been slashed by a pegasus knight. The pain had rendered him not only nauseous, but in a rage fueled by adrenaline and frustration. After the pegasus knight and her mount were rendered defunct, he took cover within dense forest, freshly singed from an enemy's spell, and unfortunately his _Miasma_ in response had only grazed them.

He felt at his arm that bled, stumbling on his leg in pain. In other words a single hit could knock him to the ground, unconscious or worse. A _Dark Spikes_ rested on his fingertips as he swallowed, locking eyes with his attacker, hoping that he would have a split-second advantage.

His opponent was looking behind him, and he wondered what in his battalion would have drawn their attention. The answer revealed itself quickly, with Ferdinand striding in front of him towards the mage, a sword in one hand, with shield in the other. He would twirl that sword in one hand in his off-time, as if it was a stage prop—a graceful extension of his arm, which was thankfully swung with a little more purpose in battle. The beads on his clothing rattled as he moved, bending with elegance; he dodged the flurry of lighting that bolted towards him effortlessly as if that was a dance in itself. Afterwards Ferdinand struck, slicing at the enemy mage's neck, hitting an artery as a spray of crimson graced him as he winced. The mage fell to the ground.

Hubert watched the red of his tunic, the red that had graced his skin and as it dripped from his sword. Ferdinand's battalion marvelled at him in a similar stunned awe. Dorothea's words rang true in his mind, _every rose has its thorns_ , and he felt a shudder run through him. Ferdinand turned to address him, still sprayed in blood, and his eyes widened. "Good heavens! Hubert, are you quite alright?" 

Hubert clutched at his shoulder, and blood seeped through his gloves. He grumbled. "It could be worse."

Without warning, Ferdinand paced towards him. The members of their battalions looked at them; Hubert felt their gaze on him like a flurry of arrows. Ferdinand reached for his arm, grimacing as he looked at the gash and shook his head. "I wish I had anything on me. I'm out of vulneraries, I'm afraid..."

The gentle tone in his voice, and how he carefully touched his arm annoyed him. He jerked his arm away. "Because you use them frivolously," he hissed. "You have no tolerance for pain, or understand any concept of urgency. Do you not think you would need them when you were seriously injured?" 

"The professor encourages me to use them," He said, apologetically. Ignoring him, Ferdinand drew closer to observe the wound, frowning. "Perhaps I ought to have asked to be instructed in Faith, so I could at least—"

Hubert cut him off. "You have no potential in magic." He snapped. 

"…I am aware. But it would be better than nothing." 

In full sight of their battalions, he felt a wave of shame now Ferdinand was close to him, who beckoned for a member of his battalion who brought an unspecified bag, which upon closer inspection contained a bundle of medical items, recognisable in how it was constructed and sewn. Scissors were used to cut his robes around his wound to remove the soaking fabric, so Ferdinand was able to clean it.

As he drew closer, he could catch the smell of blood other than his own, as well as a whiff of his cologne. Hubert narrowed his eyes, which Ferdinand ignored as he began to apply a salve to the cut that would numb the pain. "...Linhardt should almost be close enough for a _Physic_. I will be staying with you until then." 

Hubert tutted, looking away. Of all places, he had put cologne on for this occasion. "I do not need your pity."

Hubert distinctly remembered his words. "Pity," Ferdinand scoffed. "Hubert, I do hope that if you find me in a time of need, you would do more than pity me.”

He continued to dress his wound, wrapping the bandage around his upper arm carefully. “Besides that, I do think I am doing a little more than _pitying_ , would the correct term be _helping_ , or perhaps _assisting_? _Healing_ may be a stretch, but still…”

He began to ramble, as Hubert chose to tune it out. Ferdinand’s eyes travelled across his body, observing him carefully, cast down as his eyelashes spread from the bottom of his eyelids. Hubert watched him with unease. Ferdinand cast his eyes to his leg, and he let in a gasp. "Why, you're horribly burnt! It is no wonder that you have been so sour with me..." 

He dug out another small container from his bag to unscrew the top, and Hubert recognised it from the smell. A topical salve with soothing properties, which was applied onto his burns with soft, delicate touches. 

It was a gentleness he had not seen from him before. 

He corrected himself, he had seen this. Ferdinand was capable of gentleness, with the others, helping fellow classmates as they would limp to the nearest bishop, and as he tended to the horses in the stables, fastening armour onto them with great care and attention.

"Easy," he would murmur, when Hubert would flinch. It was his first time to be on the receiving end. He watched him, and for whatever reason a smile crept up on Ferdinand's lips. 

Hubert bristled, asking him what it was. In response, Ferdinand shook his head with a smile as he reached to smear more of the salve on his fingers. Hubert had watched him with scorn and suspicion.

He had remained with him until their professor approached them on horseback, dismounting swiftly and placing her hand on Hubert's shoulder as a pulse of white magic surged through him.

The burn on his leg faded, with his skin returning to normal. The pain subsided immediately. Light seeped out from where Ferdinand had wrapped gauze around his arm, rendering his work useless. 

Hubert gave a nod to Byleth, while Ferdinand smiled at her. “Professor!” He exclaimed.

—

He remembered Ferdinand beaming with pride at the words of praise that their professor had given him for dressing his wounds. She had questioned Hubert about Ferdinand’s bedside manner in which he gave a lukewarm response, which made Ferdinand cross his arms and hum in disagreement. They began to bicker, which in response their professor only chuckled at them, only suggesting that they return to camp soon.

Back in the present, in a quiet room within the halls of Imperial Palace, Hubert frowned. "How did you know?"

Edelgard had a quill in her hand, and had begun drafting the letter. Her quill paused as she tapped the excess ink from it into the inkwell. "She told me."

He did not press further. Their professor was a delicate topic. They sat in silence while Hubert watched her write. After a few moments, the parchment was slid across to him, and in response he gave a shallow nod.

—

The letter was sent by courier to Aegir, and by the end of the week she had returned to them with his reply.

Ferdinand's response was more curt than he expected, not even laced with a hint of the formalities or purple prose he would have expected in a letter from him. He agreed to assist Edelgard and himself in Enbarr. Hubert read the message a few times, more than puzzled. The first letter they had received from him was littered in all sorts of frivolities, sent after their first meeting with the son of Duke Aegir, both for Edelgard and himself. They were fifteen and twelve respectively, with Edelgard only just having returned. Even as the years passed this memory frayed, it remained mostly intact.

In those days, Edelgard was understandably reluctant to make new friends, but Ferdinand chattered to the two of them eagerly, especially so to Edelgard, who he most likely perceived as shy. He recalled eyeing Ferdinand with scorn as he made a sudden movement towards Edelgard, making her flinch slightly as a chain of wildflowers he had made was lifted towards her arm. 

What stuck in his mind was what happened to Ferdinand on that day when they met. He had fallen somehow as they played outdoors, with Ferdinand sitting on the ground, clutching at his knee which had sustained a graze, and with a few cuts littering his upper shin. For whatever reason, Edelgard had excused herself momentarily, and insisted that Hubert was to stay with their guest. His socks and shorts had been stained with dirt and mud where he had taken a tumble, which he was attempting to dust off hurriedly. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and as Hubert applied asalve to his injury he winced and hiccuped, demanding to ask what he was doing as he stung. Hubert had most likely bitten back with an explanation, all while Ferdinand continued to sniffle. 

What was notable, or what Hubert realised, was that Ferdinand was not shedding tears over the supposed pain he was in, but rather the state of his clothes. He recalled thinking that it was pathetic, and looked down at him with disdain. Clothes could be replaced, and for someone to be so concerned by pieces of fabric, could the sole heir of Aegir be so frivolous and vain? 

Through sobs, he had begged Hubert not to say a word about how he cried, saying that nobody could know that he had wept, and that he was twelve years old, and that meant that he was grown-up. Hubert had snorted, feeling infinitely grown-up at the grand age of fifteen, watching him wipe at his cheeks with his hands. Hubert tutted and whipped out a handkerchief to wipe at his face roughly, commenting about how everybody would know with the wet tracks on his cheeks, and the redness in his eyes. 

To pass the time and to forget the ordeal, they engaged in some common board games where Hubert had bested him ridiculously, with Ferdinand insisting that somehow he had cheated. Hubert recalled feeling incredibly smug. He had cheated, but Ferdinand had no way in proving it. Eventually Edelgard had returned, smiling as she spectated, which egged Hubert on. 

By the time their respective handlers had arrived, Edelgard laughed while Hubert and Ferdinand squabbled over rules. With a smile and a wave, Ferdinand was carted off to his home while the two of them watched. 

They had all changed since then. Ferdinand had somehow cultivated a rivalry between himself and Edelgard. Hubert and Edelgard grew older, and the more they did the more that they understood what they needed to do. Perhaps in another world, in other circumstances, the three of them could have continued in that way. If there was nothing sinister and inhuman that lurked in the shadows of the palace in Enbarr, in Adestria and in Fódlan… Nothing that needed to be chased out and culled. 

—

When Ferdinand returned to Enbarr, he immediately retired to his quarters. His dinner with Edelgard, and in extension Hubert himself, had been cancelled due to the fatigue he had endured on the journey. Edelgard had no questions, although Hubert narrowed his eyes. _Fatigue?_ He remembered when they shared a tent for weekend expeditions, he would annoyingly have to make an effort to wake him in the morning from a deep sleep, but he would be bright and sprightly until nightfall, cheerily recalling their exploits up until the lights were dimmed. 

Perhaps it was a sign of getting older. Hubert had noticed a fair few signs on himself, if only recently. He would spot wrinkles on his face that had grown deeper than he remembered, his shoulders and back would ache in strange new ways, and scars would heal far slower than they did in his younger years. On more frightening occasions, he would glance in the mirror and his father would look back at him, if only for a second.

With a few raps on his door, Ferdinand answered almost immediately. His appearance was as normal, though his voice betrayed a sense of weariness. "What is it?" He said to him, without any other greeting.

"Good to see you too," Hubert greeted, his tone intentionally light. "You missed dinner."

He narrowed his eyes, red and bloodshot. "I informed Edelgard,” said, his voice a trace nasally and Hubert swore that he heard a sniff.

Hubert ignored it, and gave a brisk nod. "I am aware. Is there a reason why you cancelled?"

Ferdinand looked away. His hair almost covered his eyes, more so than he last remembered. He brushed it out of his own face. It has grown far longer since he last saw him, reaching past his chin and almost reaching his shoulders, more than due for a trim. Hubert observed it carefully. "It was a long journey. I believe I informed her of that as well."

Hubert glanced away from him. "I was not informed," He started, looking back at Ferdinand. "And if that is the case, it would be best if you rested tomorrow before your instruction."

Ferdinand shook his head. "I would prefer if we started as soon as possible." 

Hubert assessed him further. His overgrown hair was tousled and in need of taming, and he looked exhausted. This would not hurt him, Hubert figured. He was facing something that could shock him into this reality and he could benefit growing up as a result, at last. "Then I shall see you tomorrow morning, in my office."

Ferdinand nodded, and his door was closed with a click. As he turned, from behind the door he heard a hiccup, and a shaky exhale that followed it. 

He continued walking away, pretending not to notice, compartmentalising the spasm in his chest as he partitioned it away as simply, none of his business.

—

Ferdinand was there before he arrived. Hubert had made a comment about it, an attempt to induce a response from him, with no avail. He did not remember what he even said, the surprise from the stone-cold reaction that Ferdinand gave him pushing it out of his mind almost immediately. Although it startled him, Hubert thought nothing of it, and began explaining his duties to Ferdinand.

He listened carefully, taking notes as Hubert spoke, mostly quiet with his few questions being mostly practical. At first it was appreciated, he had expected a barrage of questions from Ferdinand as he instructed him on how to conduct Hubert's work in his absence, when all he was met with was a quick nod. "Understood," he had said. "And these—" His gloved hand tapping a pile of paper, "—when do these have to be done by?"

Hubert had blinked at him in shock. He had expected many questions, prying, annoying and unnecessary questions, and had prepared many answers in turn. He walked away hours earlier than he expected, if only a little puzzled. As the days passed, the transition into this new role seemed to be going more smoothly than he thought, with no hitches or bumps in adjusting to the role. Ferdinand did as he said, and any adjustments were addressed with ease. 

What he perceived as pliant behaviour came across as odd from Ferdinand. Even with his meticulous and overly complex indexing system, he was not met with a single complaint. Not even a suggestion that it could be improved came from him. Hubert would admit that it was outdated, and it ought to be dealt with. He had half-hoped that Ferdinand would insist from himself that it would be the first thing he would fix. He imagined it, him grimacing as Hubert explained to him the system in place, perhaps even interrupting him. _"I am sure there is a more streamlined method to approach this, if you would allow me to craft and implement it? On rainy days as a young boy, I would often sit in my father's offices…"_

When Ferdinand was away from his desk, Hubert checked and checked again if it had been altered—perhaps he would rearrange it covertly, stubbornly knowing that he could rearrange it in a superior manner without any permission. It had not, and Hubert's heart sunk. 

Before he departed from the Imperial Palace, he had provided him with a list of jobs, one optional one being to devise a new indexing system. He had forgotten all about it, long after a successful battle near Hyrm, Hubert returned to Embarr to reconvene with Edelgard, only recalling the task he had set as he passed his office. Ferdinand was sitting by his desk, quill in hand and loose sheets of paper were resting on his desk. 

Ferdinand did not greet him, only glancing at him as he entered. "Rearranged your documents," He started, not even looking up from his work. "Let me know if it is sufficient."

His desk, and his paperwork that was meticulously filed away had never been this orderly. "Good work," he commented. "It is better than I expected," he continued, carefully.

The backhanded compliment was intentional. He wanted Ferdinand to put his head up and remark that it was Hubert's mistake to ever underestimate him, his voice rich and proud. 

Ferdinand's response was a silent nod. As he paged through paperwork and glanced at Ferdinand's notes, he had already begun to worry. 

—

Hubert's corrections and compliments were met with the same indifference. He tried being sterner with no reaction, and he tried being kinder with even less. Gentle, even, the kind of gentleness that would be met with a recoil of surprise to most people. Not even a frown to question his unusual behaviour, or even a smile from how absurd his behaviour was. 

"Have you changed your cologne?" he even asked once, knowing full well that it was the same that he had worn, always, desperately clawing for a response of some sort. 

The Ferdinand he knew would toss back his hair and say, _had you not noticed? I always wear this cologne_ , with a wide smile that suited him so well. He would have furrowed his brows and pout as he continued, saying, _it isn't like you to be so unobservant, perhaps you have a poor sense of smell? That would explain your lack of appreciation for the kinds of teas I…_

"I don't know," was all he muttered, moving the topic back to their work. His behaviour, or lack thereof, irked him to no end.

—

Edelgard set down her teacup, making a pleasant sound as it met the saucer. "You're worried about Ferdinand." 

Hubert's hand paused, his cup of tea only just about to reach his mouth. "I… do not recall saying that."

"You keep almost mentioning him. In the same way you do when you are concerned about a matter." 

He bristled. Years of being her companion has allowed her the extraordinary ability of being able to read between the lines. "He has altered. I have noticed that he is acting unusually."

Her response was only a sad smile. "There is a war on, Hubert." 

Where Edelgard and Hubert had planned it for years, it had been sudden for him, plunged into this hurricane of chaos and war. He had no sense of the buildup, the inevitability, or any preparation for this turbulent time. Hubert took a sip of tea. "I am aware. However his behaviour is… concerning me."

Edelgard blinked. "Is that so? He seems normal. A little muted, but otherwise very him."

He tilted his head slightly and raised a brow, as if to ask, _really?_

Edelgard tilted her head in kind. "What about him is concerning you?" 

Hubert attempted to piece his thoughts together. He had a bad habit at drawing his attention to Ferdinand, and perhaps he had looked at him too closely. His own unnecessary thoughts would have muddied his own judgements, coming to the sorts of conclusions that were most likely inaccurate. 

He would not admit it to anyone, not to Lady Edelgard, and only to the pages of his diary that he wrote in ciphered shorthand, that he did not hate looking at Ferdinand. Not in any way that was indicative of any attachment by no means, only that he had grown to be—Hubert collected his thoughts carefully—sightly. 

As his adolescence waned, he had filled out the body he suddenly grew into. His physique was nothing short of woodcuts portraying tuniced and sandaled heroes of ancient times —strong arms for wielding weapons, with toned and shapely legs. As a child he resembled his mother greatly, and as he grew older that only changed to resemble his mother's father. The shape of his jaw and his nose curving in such a way that closely mirrored how his maternal grandfather, supposedly. In those days he was considered handsome, and his daughter was widely known as beautiful. 

It was unfortunate for her to be paired with Ludwig Von Aegir. She bore one son, and passed away from an ailment that lingered from Ferdinand's birth. At a first glance, it seemed that what he inherited from his father was his crest, as well as red hair and the tendency to form freckles on his skin. In the warmer months, the tiny faint dots that flecked his skin would darken. He would occasionally catch Ferdinand regarding them with a frown in a mirror, jerking back when Hubert's presence was noticed. He most likely disliked them because they made him seem common, reminiscent of people who would work in the field. Ignoble, perhaps.

It was irritating. Ferdinand should be grateful that it was the worst trait that he inherited from his father. They did not make him unsightly in the slightest, dotting his cheeks and nose, even to his arms. He caught himself at least once wondering if they travelled up his arms to his shoulders. He theorised that they might. The clothes that were worn to train were thin, so most likely a little of the sun's rays could bleed through. His legs had faint traces of them, even as her teacher made him wear that ridiculous dancer's getup for battle in the winter. His mind travelled to his torso which could be smattered with little dots, or maybe all the way up his legs? 

He shook his head, as if the thoughts of him would finally fall from his mind as they clung. He was hard-wired to notice these things; he was neither blind nor brainless. He was attractive, yes, but by no means was he attached to him. He simply would catch sight of these things, in the dinners that their professor would invite the pair of them to, and when they were forced to carry out stable duties together. He was handsome so he would notice how he would act, how his lips would curl into a smile, or how his brow would crinkle when he was displeased. He would laugh loudly, and it would echo around the walls, and even to a few rooms away.

The teacup paused in his hands. Since he arrived in Enbarr, Hubert had not seen him laugh or even smile, not even once.

"Hubert?" Edelgard asked. On her plate was a half-eaten tart, and her cup was mostly empty.

"Perhaps it is my imagination," Hubert uttered, taking another sip of his tea.

—

A merit of Ferdinand's new role was the abundance of spare time that Hubert was suddenly in the possession of. Edelgard had encouraged him to indulge in some downtime, and that rest was an important part of staying well. Yet the collections of literature on his shelves still continued to collect dust, and the daggers that were too decorated and bulky for regular use still remained dull. Instead, he spent his time by observing Ferdinand. Notably, he was consumed by his work, spending the majority of his time at his desk. Meals were taken sparingly, and he often brought them to his office. Above this, his demeanour was unusual. Compared to the other times he had observed him, something seemed to weigh on him. He observed him in silence, and without his knowledge. 

When he would approach him, he was met with indifference. Hubert would volunteer an extra pair of hands or set of eyes for his paperwork, which were turned down. Offers of refreshments brought to him were refused outright.

He would leaf through five, maybe six pages of an old tome for the sake of it, before putting it down and pacing down the halls of the palace, seeking Edelgard to ask if there was anything he could assist her with.

Edelgard was in light clothing, on a balcony in the fresh air conducting some stretches in preparation for some physical training. She suggested at first that she might like a sparring partner, to which Hubert chuckled at in response. Edelgard smiled. 

There was an assortment of belongings in a spare room in the palace, shipped over in a hurry as it was decided that Ferdinand was to move to the palace. With Ferdinand already up to his neck in paperwork, and with Hubert with his hands free, Edelgard suggested that he could work on that if he was that much at a loss. He feigned a surrender, that since it was his lady that asked him, he would do it. She said she appreciated it, almost apologetically. She informed him that it was all to be dealt with, and that the belongings are either disposed of, or to be given a new home. Ferdinand had told Edelgard if they had not been retrieved from that room already, it was as good as gone for him.

In an abandoned and desolate corner of the palace, the room was piled high with crates, and he decided to start at one corner and work his way around. The first corner had boxes upon boxes of garments, some so old that they were child-sized, and some that he even recognised from years ago. A small blouse in buttercup yellow, a grey sailor suit with a white trim, and a tiny elaborate infant-sized dress in a snow white. He marked them to be shifted and donated. 

Next were weapons, which he found a whole array of, all were simple enough. He marked them to be sent to the barracks, excluding any ones that seemed particularly rare or magical. Those he chose to be sent to Edelgard, unsure what would be the most effective use of them.

After shifting the boxes and investigating thoroughly, the majority of the boxes were sorted all aside for a few. Huffing out a breath, he started to regret volunteering for this task, if only a little. He wiped his forehead, now de-cloaked, his jacket peeled off with his sleeves rolled up, prying to top off this final box expecting more clothes or weapons. 

Inside this box were other various boxes, and Hubert raised a sweaty brow. He picked up the first he could see, a small lacquerware box decorated in an ornate pattern. Without a lock or latch it opened easily, and sitting in the box were various pieces of women's jewellery. He frowned, observing each piece. Upon closer inspection, he realised that these are by no means costume jewellery, but were bespoke pieces with precious stones, carefully preserved and wrapped in thin paper. One was a platinum ring adorned with sapphires, a gold locket embossed with a swirling pattern… Hubert frowned, putting the lid back on and setting it aside. Gifts? He thought, puzzled at the appearance of women's jewellery in his belongings. A penchant for wearing it…? He wondered, though none of it seemed like it suited Ferdinand's tastes. 

Setting it aside, he rifled through the box, where he found tea-set after tea-set. Within the gaps between the boxes he fished out an empty bag of Almyran pine, to be disposed of. Some sets of tea were more garish than others, and the more he got out the more where it came to the point where he thought, _how many blasted tea-sets does one man need?_ Until he came across a particular set. Out of all of them, this was the most muted in design. In a shade of bone-white, with scalloped edges around the rims of the teacups and saucers, and upon closer inspection a pattern was engraved, tracing and curling by the edges of it. 

"Ah," he said out loud, in realisation, without even thinking to stop himself.

—

It was his twentieth birthday. The celebration itself was unleashed upon him with little notice, with Edelgard informing him that any plans that they had planned previously were cancelled in its place. 

It was the day before when she mentioned it, and the suddenness baffled him. They had mutually agreed beforehand that any celebration was unnecessary, that to him it was just another day. He was never accustomed to lavish celebrations growing up, his own father deeming it as an unnecessary ritual.

She had insisted that it would be strange to not celebrate a twentieth, a round number which in old times was a number that signified coming of age. The affair was to last a few hours, a modest gathering with himself, Lady Edelgard accompanied by their fellow classmates in their house. Tea was to be served, a pleasant blend that Hubert enjoyed, accompanied with traditional pastries that were often present at occasions such as these.

They gathered, poured tea, chattered to one another, and the others reminisced. Even Bernadetta was present, albeit looking like she did not want to be. Ferdinand showed Petra old Adestrian tea-drinking customs, which Dorothea and Caspar laughed along to. Linhardt cut from a cake and served it to the others, saying that it was one that he particularly enjoyed.

To Hubert's surprise, the whole ordeal was pleasant. Without a doubt it was more subdued than any twentieth birthday celebration he had known, perhaps even dull, but for him it was a change. He had noted that the tea, and well as the teaware was to his tastes. Seemingly plain, but well-made and delicate, with scalloped edges and the only pattern on it was in relief. All the way to the finer details, a degree thought has been put into this little event. 

_As expected from his lady_ , he had thought. 

He was unused to being the centre of attention, and it put him a little on edge. But by no means was it uncomfortable, and he did not feel like time was wasted. It would serve as a small novelty from their days in the academy, and a fragment of normalcy in the days to come. He thanked Edelgard as they left, the others insisting that they would handle the rest. 

As he complimented her, to his surprise she frowned, biting her lip and looking away for only a moment. To him, it was a reaction he did not anticipate. "...Lady Edelgard?" He had said in bewilderment, without a thought. 

She shook her head. "No… It isn't in my nature to hide anything from you. Truth be told, I'm not the one to thank." 

He frowned. "Why would that be?"

"Someone… Else arranged most of it. All they had asked me to do was take credit and invite everyone, including yourself. They had insisted upon it, saying it was necessary to celebrate your twentieth, despite your insistence otherwise."

"Arranged by whom?"

She shook her head. "I am afraid I am sworn to secrecy."

He eliminated the candidates one-by-one. Bernadetta feared him. Linhardt would not care, and would have forgotten. Caspar would have forgotten outright. Ferdinand would have made sure that everyone knew it was him. Petra would have needed an accomplice, not quite knowing Adestrian customs. Lady Edelgard said she didn't, and she had no reason to lie to him. 

It left one final culprit, Dorothea. 

An intelligent and strategic move to curry favour between her and new classmates, without seeming too obvious. Seeing as she was the only one of them who was not a noble, seeking to cosy up to someone to marry it was understandable for her to fabricate an opportunity for herself, using his birthday. Hubert nodded as he silently commended her internally. He was caught in his own thoughts until Edelgard continued. "But he insisted on keeping it a secret from you." 

His head snapped toward her. " _He_ , did you say?"

Edelgard blinked, bringing her hand to her mouth as if to cover it, with her pale eyes flickering to the left, all the trademark signs of her letting slip of a small secret. 

Instead of smiling like he usually would, the thought settled unpleasantly in his stomach. He would not have known if Edelgard had not let it slip. He would have fully accepted the possibility of it being Dorothea, and the fact that it was Ferdinand of all people. Ferdinand, because neither Linhardt nor Caspar would know, or even care, or even arrange an event like this for him. And if it was them, they would arrange it together. He recalled a few weeks back, when Ferdinand had asked him what his plans for his birthday were, and Hubert's response amounted to that it was a waste of time and unnecessary. Ferdinand responded in turn with some disappointed. He pouted and looked away, his profile seeming more and more elegant, every time he would look at him. 

It made sense. " _Him?_ "

Edelgard looked away, brushing something away from her tights that he could not see. "You did not hear it from me, at least." 

Of course Ferdinand would have hidden it from him. If Hubert had known, he may not have appeared at his own birthday celebration, seeing it as pointless or ridiculous. Their eyes had met from across the table, twice, and Ferdinand had smiled at him both times. _Curses_ , he should have known then that something was awry from the way he smiled. He did look pleased when Hubert smiled back, at himself, Hubert now realised. If only he were more perceptive at the time. If only.

His lady continued to fiddle at her tights. "I know he can be… Grating, but try your best to stomach it. I do not think he is a bad person."

Meaning well was nowhere near good enough, he wanted to say at the time. Instead, he bit his tongue. He considered Ludwig's heir to be simple and predictable, yet he has surprised him with this and successfully. Internally, hidden behind his composure, he bristled. How could he have been tricked like this, playing so easily into his game? He had successfully pulled the wool over his eyes, and he hated it like nothing else.

The feeling was unpleasant, and he wanted to forget it. It eventually did fade into an obscure memory in his mind, tucked away somewhere that he did not remember immediately.

—

The feeling settled in his stomach. He held a teacup in his hands, observing it. 

Ferdinand had never mentioned it since. If he truly wanted to gloat about it he would have months after, perhaps on his own birthday. He had not, not even now. In all their times when Ferdinand attempted to one-up him, he wondered why he had never told him. It was enough ammunition for him. _Do you recall that splendid tea party that was arranged for you, for your twentieth birthday?_ He could imagine him saying, tossing his hair back. _It was in fact, yours truly that organised that entire affair…_

He brushed over the engravings on the porcelain with his thumb, tracing over the bumps. His thoughts wandered to Ferdinand back then. Wearing his Academy uniform with his ridiculous little cravat, gesturing wildly; his hand, gloved in lily-white flourishing as he did. He would smile in a way that was only a little irritating, speaking without end, his tongue turning like the wheel of a carriage. 

These days, he barely looked at him. 

Hubert placed the teaset to one side, casting that thought aside, returning to the last box at hand. 

He found other miscellaneous items. Tucked by the side was a pouch filled with cosmetics, unfamiliar jars of rouges with a distinctive smell, as well as what he recognised as kohl pencils, all partially used. He also dug up a pristine hairbrush made of ivory and silver, and with it a small box containing a glass bottle of women's perfume, half-empty. He frowned, placing them next to the box of jewellery he had previously found.

He eyed at them suspiciously, struggling to imagine the mental image of Ferdinand taking these items from someone, either with or without intention, at least forgetting to return them. Sniffing the perfume, it was distinctively feminine and bordering on noxious; the image of a well-dressed woman fanning herself was conjured in his head, sitting far across from himself and Edelgard at the opera. It would not pass as men's cologne without many heads turning. 

He looked at the cosmetics, struggling to imagine Ferdinand even knowing how to apply them. Like any average man of their age, he would most likely assume the kohl was some kind of artists’ pencil.

When he returned to the box, resting at the very bottom was a heavy-looking wooden chest, ornate and somewhat familiar in how it was designed. The latch gave as he undid it, its lid propping upward as nothing outside it forced it shut. From it paper almost sprung out. Hubert placed it on the lid of a closed box, prying a sheet from where it opened, and unfolded the page. 

His name was at the top, _To my dearest friend Ferdinand_ , in a swirling handwritten script. Letters, he realised, refolding the sheet, and slowly moved it to where he plucked it from, before thinking again and flicking it open to read it.

This was a letter from their former cohort at Garreg Mach, a letter of thanks for some tea Ferdinand had sent. It is written in overly flowery prose, only capable by someone like Lorenz. It ends with a promise to share a pot of tea that the sender would blend the tea leaves for, and be brewed by the sender especially for the two of them. 

It is nothing unusual from either of them. Hubert looks to the other letters that peek out from within the box. He justified it internally, as to see if Ferdinand was truly loyal, or if he could truly be trusted. Within these letters could be something that could reflect badly on him, or contain vital information that Hubert could benefit from knowing. 

He slid out another, crooking his hand deeper into the box. 

The next one is of lilac cardstock, lightly perfumed, he noted. This was most likely from a woman, and at the bottom proving his deduction was _Yours Faithfully, Constance von Nuvelle_. The letter talks about her parents, and sincerely gives her thanks to Ferdinand for dancing with her. The dance in question was her first public appearance; she had been nervous about the whole ordeal, but not spoken about it to a single soul. It was Ferdinand who had asked her for her first dance, bravely cutting in front of others. She wrote that she is grateful for him for easing her nerves, knowing that she would be comforted by the presence of an old friend. Hubert looked at the pile of women's belongings and frowned. 

He stopped reading, and skimmed through a few others. Many have senders he can put faces to, with a few having names he does not even recognise. There are letters from his friends, letters from people giving thanks, and letters that consist of children's drawings with naught else but a few words. Buried near the bottom is a letter from Edelgard, one he recognised in his own handwriting, one he acted as scribe for when Edelgard was unable to write, with a strange shake in her hands that lingered when she returned to him. _Thank-you for the bracelet you made for me. Hubert found some magic to preserve the flowers for a little longer, and it is still very pretty._

Skimming through many others, none of them contained any sensitive information. Private information, but nothing particularly sensitive or damaging. 

Guided by his own curiosity, he searched the rest of the chest. Looking at its unusually thick walls, he recalled that a chest created with this design often came with a secret compartment in the bottom. Removing the letters which came in bundles, he felt at the base, and by pressing some familiar switches and contraptions, a click, and the false bottom was able to be pried open. Within it was a thick envelope, worn and ragged at the edges, bound together loosely with string. 

Hubert smiled. He placed it carefully on what he deemed as an appropriate surface, and began dissecting it. The string was oddly worn, possibly repeatedly tied and untied for whatever reason. The envelope barely held itself together once the string untied, and would surely fall apart if it was carried without it. The papers amounted to a stack about as thick as the tomes Hubert would study from himself. 

Carefully, he slipped the pages that held it out, and began to read the first page he saw. To his surprise, it is clumsily written with poor penmanship. _A child?_ He wondered, to see that it was dated from even before the three of them had met. 

_My tutors have recommended that I write more often to improve my penmanship. I already write in a journal every single day, as I am instructed to. Therefore, I thought I could write a letter to you…_

It is signed at the bottom as simply _Ferdinand_.

He leafed through the other pages. There were two sets of handwriting, one belonging to Ferdinand, and another to someone far more practiced. What he could make of this envelope’s contents were their entire correspondence. The cardstock is of a good quality, and one he recognises, which he straightens and begins to skim. He wondered why he would so carefully hide these letters, purely letters from his childhood, carefully reading them for any context. 

Upon more reading, nothing of note came up. There were countless letters, noting what they did of their days, the dates spanning from month, and then he realised years. They wrote about the opera, and how he would like to wield a sword like Miss Casagranda, and his recipient responded with kind encouragement. His recipient would ask how his studies are going, and he would respond that his teachers say he is doing well, however, he would much rather be outside in the warmer seasons. They speak of taking tea, how tea should be taken, and what tea they both like best. Ferdinand likes Southern Fruit, and his recipient likes Rose Petal Blend. Each letter on both sides are composed with great care; for the most part, they are nonsensical. _I love you more than there are fishes in the rivers of Adrestria!_ He wrote once. His recipient wrote back, _Then I must love you more than the number of fishes that swim the oceans surrounding Fódlan…_

It is an overly sentimental back and forth as he skimmed through the words. Nothing of importance is written, so he shuffled the sheets to read the letter at the very back, assumedly the most recent one. It is from his recipient, heavily perfumed, and on thinner cardstock. Its sender writes to Ferdinand apologetically, out of a desperate love. They lament at not being able to see him leave to the officer's Academy at Garreg Mach, to see him grow into an adult, to see him be wed, or to see his children. 

_As a mother_ _I wonder_ , she wrote, _if I could have done more for you._

His stomach turned, mostly in surprise at himself for not checking the name for the recipient. He looked to the lacquerware jewellery box, the cosmetics, and the half-used perfume. He stopped reading, placing them back in the pile. He rearranged the letters by date, slipping them into the envelope, tying them with the identical knots that Ferdinand had used, tidying them away and leaving no trace. 

He marked the old tea set to be delivered to his room, and he crammed the perfume and cosmetics into the lacquerware box. He looked to the chest of letters, abandoned by Ferdinand. 

—

By the time he had left, it was early evening. He had rifled through his belongings for longer than he had expected, only to have them make him worry even more. Underneath one arm was the lacquerware box, and he looked for Ferdinand. 

Surprisingly, he was not present in his office, and it was early for him to be taking his evening meal already. Hubert stared at the empty seat in disbelief before patrolling the surrounding corridors. 

Hubert heard a familiar laugh, and on pursuing it spotted Ferdinand in a gallery, holding a ream of documents with his back to him. Opposite him was Edelgard. The sight was a nostalgic one, one that almost made him drop what he was holding. Ferdinand was gesturing wildly with his free hand, to an Edelgard who nodded along, smiling albeit her expression a hint troubled. It was one that accompanied familiar words uttered by her, out of earshot of him, _does that man ever stop…?_

He peered at them from behind a corner, hearing Ferdinand laugh again as it rang out across the corridor. Hubert gripped the lacquered box in his hand, quashing any unpleasant feelings that bubbled within him, a strange jealousy. That did not matter, he told himself. This would mean that Hubert had no reason to be concerned about him, and that how Ferdinand acted was only to him. 

It stung. Hubert would admit to only himself. But in the grand scheme of all that was happening in this life of his, it was menial. That coldness was something personal to them, and not necessarily a reflection of Ferdinand's state of mind. He began to wonder where he had misstepped so greatly, observing Edelgard and Ferdinand from afar, just out of their range of view. Their conversation was winding down, and they were bidding each other their farewells. Thankfully, Edelgard was walking in the opposite direction to Hubert, so he stayed put. 

As soon as she turned on her heels and walked away, Ferdinand's demeanour atlered. 

What Hubert realised as tension left Ferdinand, his shoulders sagged.The hand holding his papers loosened, as they slipped from his grip fluttered onto the floor. He stared at them for a second before bending down to pick them up.

The window of opportunity presented itself. He went to pick up the papers from the floor, meeting Ferdinand's eyes as he passed them to him. His expression was vacant and cold, even before meeting his eyes, freezing in shock as he saw Hubert. 

He was laughing only minutes before, talking to Edelgard how he would have back in the Officers' Academy. Hubert realised then that a hauntingly talented actor was in their midst.

As Ferdinand rose to his feet, he bundled the papers together. "Hubert," he greeted, "What is it?"

Hubert presented the lacquerware box to him. "I found this, in the midst of going through your belongings. It seemed important, and I wanted to run it past you before dealing with it."

He half expected Ferdinand to hold it in his hands, observing its innards before passing judgement. Instead barely took a glance. "I have no need for that."

Hubert looked down. "I see. I found some tea-sets which are still in very good condition, some kind of ornate wooden chest…"

"Get rid of them. They are of no use to me."

Hubert played the fool, willingly. "Are you sure? With the chest, I did not check its contents. Is there nothing of value in there?"

"It is only paper. It is of no use to me."

Hubert masked his desperation. "It seemed heavy." 

He looked away with a scowl. "I would not have left them in that room otherwise." His tone was curt, and final. 

"Understood." He said, with no intention of disposing of them. His next words were blurted out without much thought. "Have you eaten yet?"

Ferdinand stared at him blankly. "Why do you ask?"

"I am yet to this evening, and so, perhaps," Hubert swallowed. "We could have dinner together." 

—

Hubert rarely acted on impulse. 

He reasoned to himself that it was an opportunity to observe him closely, and he was yet to have an opportunity to. Dinner was a prime opportunity for observation, and he must have thought of it subconsciously. They were to reconvene in a few hours just after sunset, and so Hubert arranged the whole ordeal in a frenzy. The room they would dine in was one for private occasions for the emperor and their chosen guests, though currently in unuse. 

Nobody would notice if they were to eat together here, and it would be somewhat private. He had notified the staff that this ordeal was not to be spoken about or referred to otherwise, implying that this meal between him and Ferdinand would be accompanied by conversation that could be classed as sensitive, only for the sole purpose of Edelgard not catching wind of this meeting. 

_"Dinner? With Ferdinand?"_ He could imagine her, smiling at him. _"You haven't done that since our days in the academy."_

Underneath her words would linger the question of, why would Hubert take dinner alone with him? Surely he disliked spending time with him? If he felt the obligation to dine with a colleague, surely the invitation would be extended to any other…?

She would say nothing, and only smile gently at him, perhaps assuming something that was untrue. 

It was true that the last time they had eaten dinner was with their professor at Garreg Mach. He had been too busy putting up with Ferdinand than observing their professor close-up, spoiling the ordeal for Hubert. The two of them would bicker, and their professor would look at them fondly, letting out a chuckle every now and then. He recalled those lunchtimes as he laid out their cutlery. 

Thankfully the kitchen had pheasant, so Hubert was able to ask for the cooks to prepare a dish they could both enjoy. The time he spent sourcing pheasant was instead used to select an appropriate wine that would pair with their dish. As he conjured some ice with a modified _Blizzard_ spell, he found himself wondering where he could source some fresh flowers from the table. He almost froze his own boots in the process. 

When he spotted Ferdinand heading down a corridor, he jolted, straightening his clothing and combing back his hair, hoping to seem like he was put-together. By no means it could be explicit that he had just been frantically trying to arrange this dinner for them. He led him to the room they were to dine in, set up for the two of them. The table was set neatly, but without the usual decorations of a dining room, it seemed oddly empty. As he pulled out Ferdinand's chair for him, he looked at Hubert strangely. Hubert ignored it. 

"How is work?" Hubert finally asked when he was seated, reaching for the carafe of water that was between them. 

Ferdinand watched him. "Fine. I will need you to review those documents, about the Agricultural Union in Bergliez." 

Hubert paused, looking to him as he finished pouring a glass of water. Ferdinand was ahead of schedule, by a very comfortable amount. "Oh. Good work." He set the glass to Ferdinand's side of the table. It, with the compliment, was received with no reaction. "And how are you," Hubert asked, nonchalant and reaching for his own glass. 

The response he received was a short and curt, "Fine."

In their days in the Academy, it was Ferdinand that would lead their conversations at lunch, with Hubert cutting in at some intervals. This situation was far more difficult. As the silence between them dragged, dinner was brought to them. A plate of sautéed pheasant accompanied by seasonal vegetables, as well as a sauce made from reduced Albenian berries, steaming hot and fresh from the kitchens. 

As the plates in front of them let off a pleasing aroma, Hubert spoke. "I believe that there should be a bottle of wine somewhere that ought to suit this particular dish—"

Ferdinand cut him off. "You drink wine?"

Hubert stopped, half stood up and half-startled. "Yes…?" 

Ferdinand let out nothing but a short hum, looking away. 

As he walked to the pantry alone, he pondered at his response. _You drink wine?_ Of course he did. He had drunk wine in front of him before, had he not? When it was needed and expected of him, he would drink wine. He had trained himself to develop some form of tolerance to alcohol in the case that he had to, at social events and accompanying Edelgard. A wave of paranoia came over him, wondering if Ferdinand somehow knew that he did not care for it, and that he was bringing it up for some bizarre, strange, and twisted reason: that Ferdinand partook in wine, and Hubert knew that he enjoyed it.

He brought the wine, chilled in a bucket. Wiping it of excess water, he uncorked it with a pop, tilting the bottle towards Ferdinand's wine glass.

Ferdinand raised a hand towards it. "None for myself. I have work to be returning to after this."

The wine bottle was in his hand, still tilted towards him. It was a fragrant white, with notes of peach and vanilla, pairing well with their dish. From an old snippet of a conversation he overheard, Ferdinand preferred white wine. "It... is late," he began to reason.

Ferdinand shook his head. "In recent times, sleep has eluded me. I often cannot sleep until late, and it is a better use of my time to work in the meantime." 

Hubert looked to the label of the bottle. "If that is the case, then you could start work later in the morning. Afternoon, if it suited you."

Ferdinand gave a bitter smile, the first smile he had given him. "A meager attempt." 

Hubert's frowned. "...At?"

"To make me appear poorly in front of Edelgard."

"It was not my intention." He said, pouring himself a glass, gauging whether Ferdinand's eyes travelled to the wine, and if he could tempt him in sharing a glass with him. "You are quite ahead in your work. It would not hurt to take a day to rest." 

He did not respond. Ferdinand looked down to his food, his eyes narrowed. "It makes me wonder why you invited me to dinner." 

Hubert looked to the wine, hiding his guilt. "...It has been a while since we have eaten together," he said quietly.

The words left him with an astounding honesty. Without the excuse he had invented to reason with himself, it was obvious that Ferdinand was troubled by something. Hubert had grasped at a sense of normalcy, it seems, to try to urge Ferdinand to act as they did before. He realised that he wanted him to bicker with him, desperately. If bickering would get him back to his usual self, he would. 

Whatever plaguing him could be eased, if only a little by a meal he liked and wine. If anything, he wanted him to feel better.

 _Feel better,_ he found himself asking, _in my company?_

Hubert's fork stilled, looking at Ferdinand. They fell into another silence, with the only sounds between them being the clinking of cutlery against plates. Hubert looked around the room. It needed more decoration, perhaps, and a little more light in the room. He was in a rush, after all. Perhaps if he had more time, he could have found more lights, or perhaps some other means to brighten up the room. 

He swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip. The wine was decent, though Hubert longed to hear what Ferdinand thought of it. Judging by the taste, and his current state of mind, its content in alcohol was small. He ought to do with another glass. "Could I not tempt you to having a small glass? I believe it is to your tastes."

His response was blunt. "I do not want wine."

Submerged in ice, as it hit the glass at room temperature it would be the perfect temperature to drink. Hubert poured himself another glass. They ate in silence, and Hubert sipped his wine. Hubert cleared his plate with Ferdinand having eaten in a meager amount. Ferdinand excused himself as his plate was taken away, and as soon as he left, Hubert poured himself another glass which he necked.

He stumbled slightly as he arrived at his own quarters, flopping into his own bed to retire for the night. With his face buried into his pillow, he wondered, worn candid by the alcohol, where he had gone so horribly wrong.

—

He would have accepted the petty arguments and the shallow insults that they exchanged in their youth in a heartbeat. Their current relationship was nonexistent, and barely even passed the bar of being acquainted. 

Acquaintances would surely make small talk, Hubert wondered. He would move silently towards the door of his office to peer in, to see him hunched over his desk. The weeks had passed since their shambles of a meal together. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck in a small tail, fastened with a black strap of fabric in a bow. Hubert had done something similar, with his hair growing too long to not have it out of his face in any way. A few strands would escape it, hanging in loose waves against his face. 

Edelgard had smiled, and had kindly said that he looked handsome with less hair covering his face. Ferdinand had not commented. 

Hubert continued to observe him. The facade of his former self extended to everyone he worked with, everyone who worked for him, everyone he worked for, besides Hubert himself. When the mask would crack, he would wave it off, saying that he may be under the spell of a seasonal cold, that he was tired, or anything in line with any of his other excuses. At a glance, it was believable. He looked wearier as the weeks passed, which began to bleed into his work. Any encouragement of rest from Hubert was dismissed, and any order from Edelgard was covertly ignored. In the past week, he found him asleep at his desk on more than one occasion. Upon stirring him, he shook Hubert off, almost annoyed.

It worried him. They could be losing a valuable asset to them, he told himself, until he realised that barely mattered. Hubert had subordinates that he could split this work between at a stretch after some extensive training and monitoring, since Ferdinand had taken to it so easily. It would be time-consuming and unfavourable to replace Ferdinand in his current position, but by no means was it impossible. Hubert’s concern had grown for some other inexplicable reason. Not one person had noticed this obvious change in Ferdinand, and in his current state he was very near falling apart. He seemingly had not even one person to turn to, with the only person who noticed being someone that Ferdinand despised.

Hubert was aware of that fact, and for that reason maintained his distance, clueless on how he could possibly comfort him. 

In the days before an expedition, he wandered through the markets of Enbarr with the intention of stocking up some personal supplies. Scouring the stalls for good quality coffee beans, he instead found a vendor that stocked an array of tea leaves. 

—

Hubert was straightening the tablecloth as three raps came from outside of his quarters. He quickly set the teapot to heat, casting a modified _Fire_ spell on the metal plate underneath it. As he approached the door, he wondered what bout of insanity had continued to possess him. 

"What is it?" Ferdinand asked, skipping any usual formalities. It was not abnormal for them in these recent moons. Hubert's stomach turned. He had summoned him to his quarters, with no explanation, most likely expecting some urgent orders. 

"Nothing in particular. Only that I happened to find some loose-leaf tea that was on the verge of spoiling. I was hoping that you could join me in sharing a pot, since I would be unable to finish it myself."

He delivered the line airily. Ferdinand looked down and nodded, slowly making his way to the table as he was allowed inside his quarters. 

The teaset he had found had been dusted off and cleaned, allowing its innate delicate beauty to shine though once the dust had been cleaned from it. Decorating the table was a vase of fresh flowers, something Hubert had never had in his room before. Hubert poured Ferdinand's first, then his own. Southern Fruit Blend, one that he remembered hearing him liking in the past. He had managed to procure it for an obscene price despite bargaining down the price by a fraction, which he paid for without much hesitation.

It was only as the tea was steeped that Hubert realised that Ferdinand would know that the leaves were nowhere near going off. He could chalk that up on his own inexperience with the substance. The tea that he poured seemed to be at the right colour, and he felt a small amount of relief. Ferdinand took a sip, and Hubert followed in turn. It was fragrant with a hint of sweetness, and not at all to Hubert's tastes. The two of them sat in silence, surrounded by flickering candlelight. Hubert glanced towards him, eager to see his reaction. Ferdinand stared into the cup.

He had dotted the room with little candles, frivolous, but for this intended effect it worked perfectly, turning his gloomy room into somewhere more inviting. _As if you made an effort for him_ , something inside him nagged. He fidgeted with his hands, looking at the potential fire hazard. His eyes then fell to the arrangement of fresh flowers he had arranged for the table, a small vase with many small blue flowers, with a spray of dainty white lily-of-the-valley. He had procured them personally and discretely, preserving them carefully with magic. 

Without thinking, his eyes flickered to Ferdinand. He wondered what he thought about his room, the tea, the salvaged tea-set and the flowers. His face did not give away even a trace of emotion that Hubert could latch on to. Hubert continued to watch him. His hair had grown passed his shoulders, longer than Hubert remembered his own hair being at the academy. It suited Ferdinand more, curling at his jaw in loose waves, and something peculiar jabbed at Hubert’s insides as he noticed. 

Their eyes met, catching Hubert in the act. He felt his heart leap out of his throat. "Your hair has grown," he said suddenly. 

Ferdinand took another drag of tea. "It's unsightly. It ought to be cut soon. I haven't found the time."

Hubert looked at his hands that fidgeted in his lap, and stared back at Ferdinand. Ferdinand had almost drained his cup, staring at the ceiling. 

Hubert scrambled to search for the right words to say. _You have been acting strangely,_ seemed accusatory. _I want you to tell me what is bothering you_ , seemed too condescending. _Is there something you want to tell me_ , sounded far too forward, and not at all what he wanted to say. _I am worried about you_ , seemed far too intimate for them, alarmingly so. And why did it matter that Hubert was worried? 

Ferdinand drew him out of his thoughts. "What are your intentions?" 

Hubert looked at the cup of tea in front of Ferdinand, half-empty. He had drunk the tea readily, at least. "...Concerning?" 

"You have never invited anyone to your quarters."

He felt his cheeks warm. It was obviously intimate in some sense. He had no choice but to arrange this in his own quarters, anywhere else could risk being seen. If Edelgard had seen him scurrying around for candles and fresh flowers for tea, his intentions and true feelings, whatever those were, would be cast into the light. _"For Ferdinand?"_ He could imagine her asking in surprise, which would melt into a warm smile. _"I wasn't aware that you even liked him."_

He scrambled for a hypothetical response. Of course he liked him, as in he tolerated him. He was dependable and executed his work well, does that not warrant him liking someone? He is just worried, like he would be for her if she seemed upset. He could imagine it clearly, and he grimaced, her chuckling, _"And you do not like me?"_

The hand on his lap clenched. It would be improper to welcome a guest without cleaning up a little, especially in a room that was usually gloomy like his own. The hand-picked flowers were only circumstance, and the ride to clear his head only so happened to be where they were growing. 

He chose not to think about it any further. 

"I thought it might be a change of scenery for you,” he readjusted the position of handle on the teapot between them, for the sake of keeping his hands occupied. “Since you are cooped up for the majority of the day."

Ferdinand's expression remained unchanged. "I do not feel any different."

He glanced at the flowers in the vase, gripping his own fingers. "I… ah." When he looked towards Ferdinand, he was swirling the contents of his teacup.

Perhaps the flowers were for naught, he pondered. They may have been too much. 

Ferdinand peered into the cup, narrowing his eyes. "I would have expected to feel something by now.” 

Hubert looked to the candles, observing how their little flames flickered. Ferdinand’s gaze left the cup, moving to the teapot, and met Hubert's eyes directly, unwavering, as Hubert's eyes wandered back to him. 

"I had expected half a cup would have provided a lethal dose by this point."

Hubert stared at him. "Lethal?”

Ferdinand continued to glare at him, continuing without a beat. "At least some properties to paralyse me, subdue me… Something that would prevent me from exercising a counterattack."

"And." He whispered. "You willingly came to my room, assuming?"

"You would either finish me here or upon my refusal, creep into my quarters or finish me in my sleep," He set his teacup down roughly. "Am I wrong?"

His eyes were fiery, looking to Hubert with sheer conviction. Like a deer caught in the flicker of a hunter's torch, Hubert froze, with his voice coming out in an ugly rasp. "...Yes?"

Ferdinand’s shoulders tensed, and a lump formed in Hubert's throat as he swallowed. Ferdinand's voice wavered, though still icy. "I… don't understand."

"I have been," he corrected himself, "I had been attempting to comfort you in some manner. Your demeanour had changed, and I wished to remedy it."

"My demeanour," he repeated.

"You seemed unlike yourself since you arrived."

Ferdinand looked away. "I did not know that you would care," he murmured. 

"Of course I would care," Hubert said, his voice almost wavering, "You are important part of the work that is achieved in the palace, and I," Hubert swallowed, "I would like to believe that at some point, we considered each other as friends."

"Friends? Us?"

Hubert’s vision began to blur. "On the battlefield. In the Academy. As children. At some point we— I thought I considered you as one." he muttered. 

Ferdinand blinked, looking carefully at Hubert. "So you were not trying to kill me."

He shook his head, with his hands trembling as badly as his words. He let out a pained laugh. "I am not sure from where you would derive such a ridiculous notion. I have been,” A hiccup from nowhere crept upon him, “desperately seeking your favour since your arrival."

"...You have?"

A chuckle escaped him, laced with bitterness."Was it not obvious?" Dread consumed him as his words tumbled from him. "Those vapid compliments I would give you, my silly invitation for dinner..." He could feel his cheeks burning as blood rose to them, staining them red in shame. "I should have known when you refused to touch the wine..." His vision blurred horribly, and his breathing had grown erratic, forcing him to gasp a shaky breath which turned into a laugh. When their eyes met, Ferdinand looked at him strangely. He forced himself to speak. "In any case, I apologise for keeping you. Now we've cleared up that small misunderstanding, I am sure you have no reason to stay.”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect, Ferdinand drew himself closer, almost panicked as he reached inside of his jacket to bring out a handkerchief. “Here,” Ferdinand said very quietly, offering a neatly-folded square of patterned cloth to him. 

Hubert stared at it, and then at Ferdinand in confusion. Something liquid dripped from his jaw, and as he wiped it away with his hand. Instinctively he expected blood, and was surprised to see that his hand was only wet. A gasp escaped him suddenly, forcing him to inhale a breath that trembled horribly. He realised only too late when Ferdinand shifted towards him, pressing the soft fabric of the handkerchief against his cheek. Shame consumed him, and his first instinct was to push him away. "I—" 

Ferdinand hushed him as he dried his cheeks. After minutes of neither one of them saying a word, a hand rested on his arm and squeezed.

Hubert refused to meet his eyes. "Please leave."

Ferdinand spoke gently. "I owe you an apology first."

"You do not owe me anything. Please leave me."

Ferdinand looked down, his brows furrowed. "My attitude towards you has been abhorrent. I… Don't know what to say."

Hubert clicked his tongue. "It is understandable. You thought that I was trying to get rid of you."

The hand on his arm squeezed again. "And I… I have upset you. Whether my apologies could ever suffice..."

Hubert swallowed, staring at his hand. "It should not concern you."

Ferdinand shook his head. "To think that, what. I thought was an elaborate plan for my own murder was in actual fact just a genuine invitation for tea, I…"

Parting for a moment, the warmth from Hubert’s arm left as Ferdinand raised his hand. He looked at their teacups. Ferdinand’s was almost empty, whereas Hubert’s stood barely untouched. He had taken a couple of sips as he barely cared for this kind of tea. "You have barely touched yours."

Hubert frowned. "...And so you must have thought I had poisoned it. I simply do not care for the flavour."

Hubert bit his tongue as soon as he said it. A minor err on his part, though Ferdinand did not react in any way, either not noticing, or sparing him the embarrassment. "May I stay until it is finished?"

Hubert nodded, daring not to say anything else that would put himself into more peril. Ferdinand glanced around his room, looking across to the candles. "It’s different from how I expected. Your quarters, that is." Thankfully, Ferdinand seemed far more relaxed. The warm candlelight suited him as it flickered around him. “Is it always like this?”

Hubert glanced at the flowers. “More or less.” Ferdinand followed Hubert’s gaze to them, brushing his fingers against one carefully. As it did, small sparks of magic jumped from where he touched, bringing a smile to his lips as he drew his hand back, and his gaze softened. “Do you remember when she would assign us to stable duties, every single week?”

Hubert blinked at the sudden change in conversation. “Only that she used to give flowers like these to me. Our professor," he added quickly. 

The dim light of the stables, and the sight of Ferdinand stroking the mane of an old gelding instead of shifting a pile of hay. Hubert would make a comment, which Ferdinand would respond to in kind, and before they knew it they would have descended into discussion, both the needy gelding and the hay were left untouched until later in the afternoon. On some weeks they would fare better, though on most weeks they were worse. Regardless, their professor would meet them with a smile. _Thank you to both of you for your hard work_ , she would say, and she would emphasise _both_ , every single week. “I recall it, yes.”

Skirting his finger around the rim of the cup, Ferdinand does not meet his eyes. “Do you think that she is still alive?”

“…They are yet to find a body,” Hubert answered. 

Bringing the cup to his lips, he murmured over it. “Do you think that they will find one?”

Hubert did not respond verbally, choosing to bring the teacup in front of him to his lips, with the intention of only drinking a small amount. 

“It keeps me going to think so,” Ferdinand sipped his tea. "She was… Patient with me. I would not think it would not be right if we could not give her a decent burial."

Hubert glanced at him, his cup pausing in front of his mouth. "Lady Edelgard believes that she is alive."

Ferdinand's stare became distant. "I do not blame her. I am sure that I would, if I were as close to her as she was. I would want to believe that she was alive, whatever happened to her, however far she fell, or if she existed in another realm..." 

Setting the cup down, it let out a pleasant sound as it met the saucer. “It is comforting to know that you are at her side.”

The comment made Hubert chuckle. “I wonder…”

“You are her most trusted and relied confidant and stood by her side, regardless of the Church or even if the professor turned against her." 

"And you would have not?" 

Ferdinand paused before speaking. "I do not know. But now… I would. I trust in her. I will serve her in any way I can."

Hubert looked down and said nothing, as a silence stretched between them. Eventually, his attention shifted to the teapot. As Ferdinand's cup drew empty, he poured him another cup. "Oh, thank you," he said, all while Hubert avoided eye contact. "I like this tea set of yours. I used to own one that was quite similar… I may ask to borrow it from you from time to time. If you would not mind, that is."

"Not at all," He said, attempting to remain nonchalant. "You may keep it, if you would like." 

"Oh, no. I couldn't possibly. This would be far too nice to take from your hands."

"Is that so," he said, as neutrally as he could muster, as he sipped his tea.

Ferdinand continued to observe the teaware wordlessly, tracing over the patterns on the cup with his thumb. Hubert watched him marvel at it, and a part of him wondered if he had noticed. Perhaps his own set had imperfections that he knew that he was attempting to find. Maybe Ferdinand knew that Hubert knew about his twentieth, or maybe Ferdinand would mention it to Hubert as a passing comment. 

It does not come up. They converse comfortably, the tension formed by a suspected intention to murder had melted. Ferdinand would smile, and Hubert's chest would race with a bizarre warmth as he would get the urge to smile back at him without a thought. He pinned it on a sense of relief, that Ferdinand would return to some form of normality than the facade than he maintained before. Between their conversations, Hubert retrieved more tea, and Ferdinand insisted on brewing some coffee that Hubert could enjoy with their conversation. When Hubert returned to his quarters, somehow a plate of bakers' confections had materialised on the table where Ferdinand was sitting, with him insisting that it would not be a proper tea time without a light snack. 

Perhaps Hubert is happy. Ferdinand perhaps considered him as a friend, and the thought alone made him want to smile even wider.They fell into a comfortable silence as they shared a small tart they had split in half, and a topic Hubert avoided for the sake of politeness was brought up, very suddenly. 

"When I was in Aegir, there were multiple attempts on my life." 

His gaze fixed on Ferdinand, mid-sip and caught off-guard. "Who was it?" 

He smiled, gazing at the flowers on the table. "I am unsure. I do not know who they are, or who they worked for. I had somehow convinced myself that they were your people. When Edelgard had asked me to come to Enbarr, I had assumed that you were bringing me to the capital with the intention of finishing the job." 

They had just been light-heartedly discussing fiscal policy. Hubert spoke on impulse. "If I were to assassinate you, I would simply slit your throat in your sleep."

"I know," He smiled. He lifted his chin and traced under where his jaw met his neck in a curve with a finger. "Here… So I would not even have the opportunity to make a sound. I used to have these dreadful dreams about it. You, looming over my bed, with a blade against my throat. I would lie there for hours…”

Ferdinand let out a small laugh. His exhaustion was no surprise, and his reluctance to sleep was now obvious, as well as his coldness and distrust towards Hubert. Hubert somehow thought that he should have known. "I would prefer it if you could give me any details that you remember about who they were."

"I shall see what I am able to scour from my journals, and I shall write you a report. Is there a due date?"

As Ferdinand smiled at him, Hubert found himself frozen for a brief moment. “As soon as. Whenever you are free.”

His eyes travelled to Ferdinand’s teacup, freshly refilled, and then the plate between them. Once filled with an assortment of cakes, tarts and biscuits, only a few crumbs remained. Looking outside his window, the sun had already set without them realising it. He wondered how many hours had passed, but worried that if he looked at a clock, it would prompt Ferdinand to look at it too, and that would urge Ferdinand to somehow leave. 

Hubert pushed his chair back. "I ought to get myself something light to eat. Would you care for anything?"

Ferdinand went to pull his chair out similarly. "Ah, no, let me…"

"You went before. Those tarts that we had, you like those, do you not?"

Ferdinand looked down with a smile. "I've had my fair share of sweet things. But thank you."

Navigating down the hallways of the palace as he left his quarters, Hubert made his way to the kitchens where he was able to arrange a light meal for himself. He was given a generous slice of quiche on a small plate, pushed onto him by a cook that had known him since he had his first set of teeth. It was when he turned on his heels when he spotted a familiar head of hair, stopping him in his tracks. 

It was in a loose ponytail, and she was dressed in comfortable clothing. He gave a shallow bow. “Lady Edelgard.”

“Oh, Hubert,” Edelgard grinned, as soon as her pale eyes met his. In her hands was a tray, holding a small teapot. “You seem like you’re in good spirits.”

He grinned slightly, attempting to hide his unease. “Is that so?”

She let out a chortle, setting down her teapot on a counter. Without a word it was taken, placed on a work surface, where steaming water was poured into it from a tall metal receptacle. “What’s the matter? Is it that surprising to see me?”

“Not particularly,” Hubert was eager to change the subject. “What has brought you here?”

Edelgard hummed. “I was reading, and I wanted something warm.”

He pressed further, intentionally. “Reading?” 

“Something to relax. I was going to get an early night.” She played with a strand of her hair. “And what about you? You don’t smile like that when you’re wading through paperwork and administrative work.”

“Ah,” Hubert looked away. “I have a guest over for tea.”

She raised her brow. “For tea?” 

Hubert let out a small snicker. “I wonder if it is something to be so surprised about?”

Her eyes widened. “Who is it?”

Hubert looked to the steaming pot of tea. “...Just Ferdinand.”

She gave a slow nod. "Just Ferdinand," she repeated. “I’m glad. You rarely mention each other. I was thinking that you two were on bad terms.”

“Is that so…”

Her shoulders relaxed, and her expression softened. “It seems like I had nothing to worry about. Tell him I said hello.”

Edelgard's pot of tea was placed back on the counter, where she placed it on her tray. The steam was fragrant and almost nostalgic to Hubert. He almost stuttered. “If you were to come along, I am sure he would be happy about the additional company…”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’m in the middle of something. I won’t keep you. Have fun.”

He was dismissed briskly. Walking back, he looked at the quiche, and wondered what he could talk about to Ferdinand. He walked carefully, making sure his shoes hit the floor appropriately to alert the guest in his room. 

His room was still obnoxiously decorated, with some candles noticeably shorter. The flowers were still fresh, and Ferdinand was still there. He slipped into the seat next to him, setting down his plate. 

“I met with Lady Edelgard on my return. She sends her regards to you.”

Ferdinand was silent. His eyes were closed, with head leaned into his hand supported by his elbow that was bent against the table. He remained still, his eyes unopened, with his posture slumped and less than perfect. 

It was not new to Hubert. "Ferdinand…?"

His response was a deep, slow breath. 

"Resting in your current posture will do you no favours," He said to him faintly, as if not to startle him. 

Ferdinand snored quietly, and Hubert stared at him. Hubert rarely came across the opportunity to observe him so closely, taking this chance to edge towards him. His eyelashes were fanned downwards curling prettily against his cheeks, and if he leaned forwards he could see the faint dots that were scattered across where the sun came across his face the most. Loose strands of hair fell across his forehead and dangled by his head, which felt as though they should be tucked away neatly. 

He leaned in, closely looking at the strands of hair that curled by his ear, his eyes travelling down his jaw and his chin, spotting faint light-coloured stubble. Looking past his neck, chest rose and fell steadily, and his mouth parted slightly to let out little breaths as he did. His lips were shapely, delicate, suiting someone as handsome as Ferdinand. 

A stray thought caught Hubert off guard, causing something to lurch within him and startle him. A warmth spread across his face that seeped strangely into his chest. 

He placed a hand on his chest, which hammered uncontrollably underneath. "Ferdinand..." he called again. He reached for his shoulder to coax him awake, hesitant to touch him.

With a faint touch on his arm, he stirred. "Hm? My apologies," he mumbled, rubbing his eye. "I do not recall falling asleep…"

Something in his ribcage stirred at the sleepy quality of his voice. Hubert swallowed. "If you could stand up for a moment, Ferdinand. I will take you to your quarters." 

"Oh…" He mumbled. "There's no need, really…" 

As soon as he rose to his feet, Hubert removed his gloves and placed his hand on Ferdinand's wrist, something he had done to Edelgard countless times. Yet drawing Ferdinand closer to him felt strange, either because he was used to a thinner and more delicate wrist, or it was how Ferdinand looked at him strangely.

Hubert hummed a spell, and with his other hand gave a quick, precise wave. Bathed in a violet light, they were transported to his room with a _warp_ spell.

Their arrival was a little more stilted than he had hoped, being far more used to warping another that was smaller in build. They had landed with a jolt. 

"My apologies," he mumbled, his grip on Ferdinand loosening. "I was hoping that would be a little smoother."

"Oh, that was…" He looked around his room with his eyes narrowed, as if in disbelief. "Thank you." 

A warmth lingered on the palm of his hand, as the presence beside him left. Ferdinand moved to sit on his bed with a creak, rubbing his eyes again and yawning again. Hubert wondered if this was a signal for him to leave. He had barely looked towards the door when Ferdinand spoke. "I'm... sorry."

Hubert froze, turning to face him. In the dark nothing more was visible than his silhouette, sitting on his bed. "You were understandably exhausted. Rest well."

"I am sorry that I upset you." 

Hubert held back a snicker. "I am sorry that you thought I was going to kill you."

"No…" Ferdinand tried to say. "I…"

"It is best if we forgot about it."

"In all my years of knowing you, I had never seen you so upset."

It was most likely true. "...It is best if we forgot about it," he repeated.

Ferdinand’s room was quiet, and mostly cloaked in darkness. He had been in many dark rooms, accompanied by another single person, who were usually unaware of his presence. Except this time, an unfamiliar nervousness made him freeze in place, and at the same time made him want to run out of the room. He reassured himself. He could say his farewells, and _Warp_ out to safety. Ferdinand fiddled with his hands, and Hubert fixed his gaze onto him purely out of habit. 

"Hubert?" Ferdinand said, as the vague silhouette that was him reached out for something. His hand brushed against his arm. “Is that you?”

“Of course.”

The hand travelled down his arm, past his elbow and circling his wrist. His hand was warm as skin met skin, and Hubert drew in a quiet breath as it reached down to hold his hand. Hubert had never known that Ferdinand’s hands were calloused, yet his touch was more gentle as the palm of his hand met the back of Hubert's own. His pulse jumped, and he resisted the urge to pull his hand back.

Hubert's hand was in front of him, his palm facing down as the pads of Ferdinand's fingers brushed against his own. Ferdinand seemed to take an interest in his fingers. The black marks, the stains from years of dabbling in dark magic surely were invisible in this low light. Even he was unable to see the patterns that crisscrossed down his fingers, staining his fingertips unnaturally. Ferdinand caressed the back of his hand with his thumb, in slow repeated strokes. He wanted to ask him to stop. This prolonged skin-to-skin contact, for whatever reason, was making him feel febrile and nervous. His heart hammered in his chest, as if he was in fear, and his words caught at the back of his throat. It stopped, and his hand was brought towards Ferdinand, as his lips on the patch of skin between the first joint and the knuckle, just on his ring finger. Hubert held his breath as his lips pressed against his skin. After his mouth parted, he brought his hand over his and squeezed it, ever-so gently.

"That is a promise. I will repay you, twofold, no, tenfold…"

"There is— There is no need," Hubert stammered. "Truly. All I did was… within my duties." 

Hubert felt the heat bleed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, grateful for the low light that cloaked the redness he could feel that burned on his face. Whether the hammering in his chest induced some insanity or false courage, he had no idea. The words tumbled from his mouth. "I ought to tell you," he rasped. "The letters that you told me to dispose of. I decided to keep them, for if you had changed your mind. As well as your other personal belongings, that seemed important… I have them in my possession, whenever you would like them, if you could tell me and I shall have them delivered. To your quarters, if you would like." 

"Hubert…"

A silence stretched between them. His reaction was unknown besides the tone of his voice, as they were otherwise obscured by the dark. Only a vague silhouette in the shape of Ferdinand was on his bed. He tugged on his hand. "Hubert, come closer?"

"I, err…" 

He shifted closer, cautious and hesitantly. 

Ferdinand's arms looped under his to draw him into an embrace. Hubert quickly copied him, hurriedly, his hands against his back. Ferdinand buried his head into the crook of his neck, where his warm breath fanned against his neck and shoulder, making Hubert flush harder. Surely his pulse would betray him, thundering away in his arteries, telling Ferdinand that Hubert was affected—altered, even—by his actions.

As his hands rested on his back, still motionless from shock, Hubert was pulled closer. Instead of craning over him, one knee was on his mattress in an awkward position as they embraced. He inhaled, a gasp in surprise, only to take a deep breath of his cologne, which made him even more jittery. Ferdinand murmured, and his voice reverberated against his shoulder. "You were kind to me. And to have ignored that for the sake of my own misplaced anxieties… It was thoughtless. I promise that I will give back even a fraction of that kindness…"

"There really is no need," Hubert rasped in a quick breath, immediately cringing at his own response. Their proximity made him feel strange. The dizziness that overcame him did not fade, as well as the nervousness that paralysed him from inside. He still felt feverish, with the tips of his ears and his cheeks burning. 

They parted, only slightly from their embrace where they could still see one another, with Ferdinand looking to Hubert directly, Hubert averting his eyes out of his own nervousness. Glancing down to his lips, he remembered the memory of him kissing his hand, only moments before, making his heart race even faster.

Did he kiss many acquaintances on the hand? He had never seen him do such a thing to anything else, then again, when would he? It was an uncommon yet traditional custom, a kiss on the hand as a promise, illustrated in books he never was interested in, and now he longed that he did. At least that would paint the context of which or of why he was kissed. 

He was being pulled apart by the seams, by himself, all over a small kiss on the hand. _One small kiss_ , he stressed to himself. Purely a kind gesture and a promise to him, that this kindness that he supposedly owed him would be paid back eventually. 

_Yet_ , another part, a horrible part of him whispered to him, as he glanced at his lips again. _What if he kissed you again?_

He silenced that voice in horror, yet his mind latched onto it. Hubert had never kissed anyone properly, as aside from a method of deception in other contexts. Poison that was hidden in a false filling in one of his molars, or as a distraction to plunge a knife into his victim’s back as his hands would circle their waist. In every instance, never as a gesture of affection. His mind raced at the word, _affection_ , and he began to realise that something was terribly wrong with him. He froze, becoming lost thought, his only warning was when Ferdinand called for him. "Hubert?"

 _Since when_ , he asked himself, _since when did this development occur?_ Had he stared at him for a moment too long, happily tending to the horses in the stables? Was it when he had worn himself ragged, trying to arrange a dinner with him? Or perhaps he had somehow been affected by his gentleness, wiping tears of frustration from his cheeks, or drawing him close…

Infatuation was an emotion, like any other. It was a natural reaction, and with time it would fade. Hubert bit his lip in worry. He could pry it away, slowly and surely, and it would either and fall away...

"Hubert, are you alright?" 

His panic must have bled into his expression. "Yes... Yes." He cleared his throat. With that, he thankfully sounded more normal. "I am fine. Although I ought to leave you to rest," Hubert said immediately. 

As they parted, Ferdinand’s hand lingered before it left. "Thank you for tonight. It was sweet... of you." 

The words made him pale. _Sweet of you_. "Anytime," he said quickly. "Goodnight, Ferdinand." 

"Goodnight," he responded, and Hubert could hear the smile in his voice. He closed the door silently, as if not to disturb him further. As soon as he was out of sight, he allowed his composure to slip as he paced towards his own room. 

_It was sweet of you_ , echoed in the recesses of his mind. His pace quickened, hurrying to return to his room. A shaky breath escaped him as he shut the door; he stumbled to his desk, almost knocking over pots of ink as his hand trembled to reach a quill. He scrambled to note the events in his journal, in his own personal code, a strange concoction of a ciphered shorthand he had used in his personal journals for years; he scribbled down his anxieties onto paper.

The space between the knuckle and the first joint of his right hand, where one would wear a ring. He stopped writing, placing down the quill, bringing the back of his fingers to his mouth, tracing the patch of skin Ferdinand's lips had touched. He squeezed his eyes shut, reassuring himself that the strange feeling consuming him would pass. 

—

The moons passed, with Hubert hurrying to and from Enbarr. In the intervals where Hubert would be in the capital, the two fell into certain habits and routines.

Ferdinand would have his part to say on the documents that were assigned to him, annotated with a neat looping script. Hubert’s desk was increasingly becoming more and more littered with Ferdinand's items, his quills, his ornaments and his stationary. On each time he would return, little pieces of paper in the form of notes would show themselves; invitations for dinner or tea would sometimes be made in this manner, and on fair evenings he would sometimes be invited for a walk in the palace gardens with him. 

It astounded Hubert how quickly he was able to rearrange his schedule without hesitation. It became easier once he noticed that as Ferdinand would open his appointment book to take note of deadlines in their meetings, he could steal a glance of all the empty spaces within the weeks. When it was decided that Ferdinand would get his own office, his possessions slowly left, leaving it somewhat empty. The notes he left, however, were tucked away in a drawer, with Hubert not quite having the heart to dispose of them yet. 

On each of his returns, Ferdinand would welcome him, and regale him of everything Hubert had missed with vigour. They would often discuss the matters that came up in their documents, often debating tirelessly, with Ferdinand’s hands gesturing as Hubert entertained him. When their debates stretched past sunset, they would take supper together, where they would sometimes take wine along with it. 

When consuming the same amount of wine as Ferdinand, Hubert had found that despite his own tolerance he would be afflicted with a higher degree of intoxication to Ferdinand. It was his mistake to maintain Ferdinand’s pace, as when they first took wine together he walked to his quarters, arm in arm with Ferdinand, only stumbling occasionally. Ferdinand laughed, making Hubert feel even more faint. 

Hubert’s own feelings were a stubborn thorn in his side, regardless of how many times he tried to pry it out from himself. He had written about them in length, trying to expel it from his system, yet it had taken root and it was far too late to remove it. If only he had noticed, he lamented, to only himself, he could have compartmentalised each part that contributed to this attraction towards him. It is when he is muddled by the wine that he thinks about it the most, even only slightly, and it is when he is the most tempted to blurt out what he is thinking. He reassured himself that this did not need to be cast into the light. He was tipsy, and wanted the relief of a secret being lifted from his conscience. He would either forget about these feelings, or nurse his heartbreak in private when Ferdinand had found a suitable partner. Until then he had one duty, and that was to be a decent friend to Ferdinand. 

On this particular day, they stood alone in the stables adjacent to the Imperial Palace. Hubert was collecting his mount for the journey ahead, an expedition masked as assisting troops in Hyrm. Ferdinand had insisted on seeing him off, regardless of what time it was. Outside, the birds chirped for daybreak, and Hubert watched Ferdinand coo and pet at Hubert's horse. Hubert watched him stroke its mane and pet its neck. This kind of farewell was unusual. If Ferdinand was meeting him on the way out, he would usually have sheets of parchment in one hand, asking Hubert question after question on whatever document he was assigned to draft, taking notes until the moment that he left.

His eyes lingered on the long strands of copper that fell around Ferdinand's face. Despite Ferdinand's complaints, this length of hair suited him. It had grown past his shoulders, now nearly at the length of Linhardt’s when he had previously seen him. When the morning sun hit a strand in a certain manner, it gleamed in shades of gold. Their eyes met briefly, and so he had been caught staring. Ferdinand tucked a strand behind his ear, a habit that had formed in the recent moons. "I ought to get it cut," he murmured, looking away. It was something that he said often. "I look unkempt." 

Unkempt was the last word Hubert would use. "Not at all," Hubert said, with little thought. "It suits you."

Ferdinand smiled and looked downwards. "Do you think so? I have never had experience in maintaining longer hair, and I worry that it would look untame…"

It was brushed neatly and left untied, with no sign of it being slept on. "At this length, you could choose to braid it."

Ferdinand looked to him. "Braid it? I wouldn't know how." 

"...Perhaps I could show you. When we have the time."

Ferdinand tucked another strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with the strand between his fingers. "I think I would like that." 

A silence lapsed between them. Ferdinand turned to Hubert’s steed to start petting it once more, a wide smile plastering his face. Hubert wondered if he had said something strange. He moved beside Ferdinand towards the gelding, offering his hand so it could smell his glove, and Ferdinand chortled as the horse nuzzled it. Hubert snuck little glances at Ferdinand, and on one occasion their eyes met, making him freeze. “I should…” Hubert cleared his throat “I ought to be on my way.”

Ferdinand blinked. "Oh, of course. Err, before you go…?"

He had turned to him, his arms open and tilting his head. "I shan't be seeing you for a few weeks?"

It had been a while since they had last embraced. Ferdinand rested his head on his shoulder, a small laugh escaping from him as he drew himself closer. At this close proximity, he could smell his cologne, and whatever soap he used for his hair. It reminds him of when they had embraced previously, in the dimly-lit corridor outside his quarters, being walked back to his room after many glasses of wine. 

His hands rested lightly on his back, relaxing into it, until Ferdinand spoke in hushed tones and close to his ear. "I fear that you may be hiding something from me."

Hubert froze. Their free time perhaps began to overlap too frequently, as if Hubert already knew his schedule and where to keep certain afternoons empty. He had brewed his favourite blend perhaps one too many times, surely, and he ought to have picked up some random tea instead so it did not seem like he had not given it a second thought. Perhaps it was while he was intoxicated from the wine, and how he clung to him as the alcohol filled him with a false confidence. Surely, he had not been so blatant?

"You said that you were heading northeast, yet I overheard some of your associates mentioning that you would head north towards the Brionac Plateau. It makes me wonder what else you are hiding from me." His breath curled against his ear, too warm and easily making his pulse jump. Hubert resisted the urge to pull away. "Some things within my work, your work that you have passed onto me do not add up. Missing bits of paperwork, reports I ought to be receiving from you on Arundel, and said lands within the Brionac Plateau…" 

Hubert swallowed, steeling himself."I am handling those myself. It is… nothing you should concern yourself with."

"If it concerns yourself, then surely it concerns myself and my own work." Hubert could hear the frown in his voice as he spoke. “Would my abilities be insufficient for that work?”

One part relieved, and another part impressed, but the last part of him was troubled and annoyed at himself. Hubert swallowed, and attempted to pull away, Ferdinand pulled him back. "Someone could read my lips…"

Hubert could feel his cheeks burn. "Someone could see us like this."

Instead of whispering into his ear, Ferdinand rested his head on his shoulder. "...Are you worried about what people may think?"

Hubert bit his lip. "I was thinking more so of your own reputation." 

"How so?"

Hubert swallowed, again."If people were to assume, wrongly, that we were, err, in a close relationship, any suitresses—"

"Or suitors," Ferdinand added. 

Hubert's voice wavered. "—would be put off by any of your advances. Fearing that they would stir one morning with a thinly-veiled death threat pinned to their bed-board with a dagger."

It could be easily imagined by an onlooker. In truth, he would… tolerate said individual, if they were to court Ferdinand, or in turn be courted by him. If she, or he? They? If that is what he meant by suitors, were suitable. And if they broke his heart then… At that point he would—

"And if I had no interest in said individuals?"

—make their lives a misery? His question left him puzzled. "Then…"

Ferdinand continued to puzzle him even further. "What if you had admirers? What of them?"

Hubert’s thin brows furrowed. "I… do not possess those." 

"Really…" he hummed. "Not even one?" 

His tone was strange. _Not even one_ , as if there would be at least one. As Ferdinand’s arms around him loosened, Hubert shot him a strange look as they parted. Ferdinand only chuckled, reaching for Hubert’s collar to straighten then flatten it.

"You know of them."

Ferdinand smiled. The cravat around his neck was unfastened and untied with deft hands. Hubert scrambled for a response. "I will not be able to return any feelings on their part," he swallowed, glancing down to Ferdinand's hands that continued to fiddle at his collarbone. "There is—I am already consumed in my work to even consider…"

"To even consider courtship," He finished for him. "Is there anything that could make you?" 

_Not until the war ends,_ would be a lie. He opted for a silence instead. 

Ferdinand finished tying his cravat, only to undo it again with a hum, seemingly preferring another method to tie it. He almost wanted to bat his hands away, nobody had tied his cravat for him, not since his age was in single digits. Hubert watched him closely, and when Ferdinand's eyes flickered up to meet his, Hubert felt something catch in his throat. 

It would be an opportune chance to ask him. They had barely brushed upon the topic before—there was no reason to—this time there would be no suspicion aroused on his part. He made sure that his tone of voice was casual, as if Hubert would not care less on what the answer could be otherwise. "What about yourself? Would you ever consider courtship?"

Ferdinand's attention returned to fixing his attire. "It sounds nice, does it not? Spending your life with someone else. A… formal companionship could be pleasant." His fingers folded the cravat into his vest, then lightly tapped his chest. "There. Finished."

"You would suit it. Marriage, that is." 

Ferdinand smiled lopsidedly. "Do you think so? I think it would suit you, too. Does it really never cross your mind...?" 

He pursed his lips. "I am not sure why it matters.”

“Well, because…” Ferdinand trailed off, looking to the floor as he did. Ferdinand rarely trailed off in this manner. Forthright and unwavering in most things that just pour out of his mouth without a thought, for better or for worse. He looked worried, almost hesitant, as his gaze flitted towards his. Ferdinand fiddled with his gloves, uncharacteristic for him, while Hubert waited for him to continue. "I… shall tell you on your return. So, come back to me safely, won't you?"

 _Come back to me._ To him specifically, and the words made his chest feel warm. "Of course."

Another silence filled the space between them. Hubert wondered if he was to be dismissed, until he noticed Ferdinand fidgeting his hands in a way that indicated that something was on his mind.

As their gazes met, Ferdinand spoke. "If you could send me a letter… You could tell me how you are, or, where you are… Even if it is just to tell me you are well."

“...I shall, when I can find an appropriate courier. I will be unable to reveal anything sensitive in those." 

Ferdinand laced his fingers together. Hubert’s eyes darted to them. “On my return, however. I could tell you.”

His response was a warm smile, and his posture relaxed. "Then I shall arrange us something for that occasion." 

As Ferdinand began to ask him whether he wanted to take supper or tea with him, from outside the bells tolled, telling the start of the hour.

He looked in the direction of the sound. “I must have kept you for a while, my apologies...”

“No, thank you for seeing me. I... shall miss you.”

“I will miss you more,” Ferdinand replied, without missing a beat. They embraced once more, before Hubert took the reins of his horse to lead him out of the stables. As Hubert turned back, Ferdinand was lingering at the doors and waved to him. With both hands guiding his horse, he gave a shallow bow in response, letting himself smile the entire way out. 

In the wilderness he found himself absorbed in thought as he traversed the lands on horseback. His horse would nibble on the grass on the side of the paths on their breaks as he would admire the landscape surrounding him. As the sun travelled across the sky, he ventured north, only stopping when late afternoon came to set up camp for the upcoming night. He watched the sunset that faded into a brilliant night, consuming a portion of mediocre rations under a blanket of stars.

Around the measly light of a single flickering oil lamp, he dipped his quill into a pot of ink and began penning a letter.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> obviously they like each other <3
> 
> 18k words! i did it! ^^ hate to admit it but i'm a horrible perfectionist, and i really struggled to finish and post this after months of working on it on and off... but i did it…! (happy) 
> 
> i made a twitter, its @cats_tongue_ and since its new i'll be looking for people to follow/follow back so ^^

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Forget-me-nots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663704) by [Rainbow_Volcano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Volcano/pseuds/Rainbow_Volcano)




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